The Reign Of Blood: The Rise And Fall Of Brother Blood
by CasaNova73099
Summary: His name was Sebastian 'Brother' Blood. What events made him choose the path that he did? What was going through his head throughout Season 3, and what did he really think of his archnemesis, Cyborg? Rated T for adult situations, language, and violence.
1. Chapter 1: The Curse Of Blood

**CasaNova here again, and this time I'm here with the first story of a whole new series: "The Rise And Fall Of". Quite often or not, a TT story on someone's past deals with one of the core Titans, the Titans West and sometimes even the honorary Titans. But what about the villains? Granted, a handful of these guys were just simply born bad, but what about the rest? What life events made it so that he or she choose the path that they did; what went through their heads during certain episodes and seasons in the series; and what did they really think of the Titans (and in some cases, their arch nemesis)? This series will address these questions.**

**Given the fact that my first fanfiction was about Raven's past story and the events that led up to her final confrontation with Trigon, the first story in this series would be -believe it or not- about Brother Blood. After researching his character from the comic books, Blood surprisingly had some ties to Raven, or rather to her father Trigon, but in the animated series, there is no mention about Blood being affiliated with the return of Trigon. True be told, Blood is portrayed a LOT different than his comic book counterparts (understandable though since TT was geared towards kids and that the story arc for Season 4 was severely watered down), so I hope that this story while splicing together my own take of things with events from both the animated and the comic series does the characters and the story line itself justice.**

**Ok. Here we go…**

* * *

CHAPTER 1  
The Curse Of Blood

It was a bitter cold day in the country of Zandia, cold enough that there was almost always snow and sleet raining down from the sky, but on this particular day in the small European country, a new precipitation fell forth. Deep within the rugged mountain chain that nearly completely surrounded the landlocked nation, a cloaked figure raced throughout the numerous canyons and chasms, darting here and there to avoid the rain of fire from above. It was a daunting task since the naturally carved pathways were seldom traveled and therefore dangerous, and as one fireball came exceptionally too close for comfort, the person, a man in his mid-thirties cried out as he lost his footing and began to fall. The man reached out in one last desperate attempt to survive and managed to grab hold of the ledge of the canyon wall. He then hung there rather helplessly as fire and ice continued to fall all around him...

'_Well, this is certainly a fine kettle of fish, Sebastian,' _thought the man sourly._ 'You made a pledge to remain neutral when it came to war and now look at you. Dear God if it is in your will, please grant your humble follower a way out of this…'_

Sebastian sighed and then closed his eyes, silently hanging in limbo (for lack of a better word) until an opportunity presented itself. It was then when Sebastian also heard a familiar voice in the distance. He turned as best as he could towards the source of the voice, and he noticed that a ways off from him was a small group of foreign soldiers marching along a ledge in the direction of a cave. What was even more interesting was that the men were being led not by a captain native to their land, but by another man in cleric's clothing just like Sebastian's.

'_Brother Rasputin?'_

Drawing from strength he didn't realize that he still had, Sebastian slowly managed to pull himself back up onto the ledge and slowly walked along it until he was directly above the marching hoard. Once he deemed it safe, he cautiously scaled down the craggy wall and down to the mouth of the cavern where the men disappeared into. As he peered in cautiously, the soldiers – seven of them in total- continued to follow Rasputin deeper into the cave, and when he was sure they were a safe distance away, Sebastian followed suit.

At first glance, the cavern appeared to be of no importance, but as Sebastian traveled onward, he could see that its wall served as a hideaway. But for what? What was done or kept in here that was so important that it need to be hidden in such a remote place? Better yet, what was important enough for a fellow cleric to ally himself with marauding soldiers not native to Zandia – especially when several of these very same men destroyed countless villages and monasteries and killed even more innocent civilians, nuns and monks as an example to anyone who would not join their cause?

"There they are," exclaimed Rasputin as the men entered a vast tomb-like room. "Just where I left them."

Keeping to the shadows, Sebastian hugged the wall as tightly as he could and ducked here and there between and behind several stalagmites. As he came in closer to the small group of men, he could see Rasputin hurriedly walk toward the center of the room and open an ancient chest. Rasputin grinned wickedly as he then slowly took out several ornate chalices.

_'Those are the chalices that we used for confirmation!' _thought Sebastian. _'I thought they were destroyed or stolen when the invaders looted our monastery...'_

Sebastian leaned on one of the stalagmites to listen in and see better, but this also turned out to be his folly since the extra weight up against the stalagmite caused some shards to give way – and give up his position as well. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph," murmured Sebastian as everyone turned to face him. Several of the soldiers were up in a flash and one was ready to pierce Sebastian through and through, but at the very last second, Rasputin called out and held out his hand, stopping the men dead in their tracks.

"Don't touch him," he replied calmly. "And leave us be. I need to speak with an old friend in private."

The soldiers looked on in apprehension, but the look upon their master's face was enough to confirm that they oblige. One by one they marched out of the room, leaving Sebastian to lock eyes with them until he was sure that he was in the clear. "Sebastian," said Rasputin, extending his hands out to coax him out from behinds the rocks. "Brother. It's good to see that you're still alive."

"What's going on here, Rasputin?" demanded Sebastian, rising up from his hiding place. "Why are you with these men? They're the ones that invaded our home despite our pleas to remain neutral during this mockery of a holy crusade. So many men, women and children, and so many of our brothers and sisters lost to this senseless war." He then stopped short of Rasputin, who looked unmoved by his speech.

"…Why are you with these people?"

Rasputin grinned, sending an uncomfortable and weird sensation down Sebastian's spine. "Because we were meant to live for so much more, Sebastian," he finally answered. "We may have devoted our lives to the one true god, but did you ever stop and ask yourself what it would be like to be a god yourself?"

"Rasputin…" replied Sebastian in a warning tone of voice. Rasputin tutted in response to this and then gestured to an elaborately embroidered and fringed violet shawl that was strung around his waist.

"They said that it didn't exist, but now I have proven them wrong!"

"Rasputin…what are you taking about?"

"This! This right here! Whilst roaming these very mountains in exile, I found the legendary prayer shawl of Christ himself! It is surely of otherworldly powers, my brother, for not long after I stumbled across this chest, several of those men found me and attacked. But, listen to this! No matter how often or strongly they stabbed at me, not once did they left a mark! As long as the shawl was on my person, I was protected. It wasn't long afterwards that the men concluded that it would be wise to follow me instead of their captain since I clearly had divine order working on my side."

"Rasputin, Rasputin. This is madness that you speak! Do you not hear yourself? An item such as this has no business among imperfect men like us. I know it to be true because I see the disastrous effect it has on you."

"You speak blasphemy, Sebastian…" said Rasputin, his voice growing dark.

"I speak the truth, _brother, _and you know it. An item of such immense power is clearly having a bad effect on you, Raz, and definitely not the product of our heavenly Father. Your perspective of what's right and wrong is severely distorted. Think about it: you've stolen sacred items from the church; you're meddling with politics when we made a pledge to remain neutral and to never bear arms, and now you say that you want to be like God himself? That's the talk of the devil coming out of your mouth!"

"Quiet, mortal!"

"I will do no such thing! You need to get rid of that thing before it is too late!"

Rasputin laughed. "I will do no such thing!" he mocked. "It's a shame really though, Sebastian. I _was_ rather fond of you and I _was_ relieved to learn that you weren't killed when the monastery was destroyed. I would've even given you a place at my right hand in my new regime. But no more, brothe_r. _Now I need to get rid of _you_!"

Quick as a flash, Rasputin grabbed hold of Sebastian's throat, startling the priest. The unholy garb apparently not only granted its wearer invulnerability but great strength as well since Rasputin's grip was as strong as a vise. Sebastian groaned and struggled as Rasputin's hand grew tighter around his neck and he slowly began to raise him up into the air. Sebastian then saw a window of opportunity: Rasputin in all of his gloating had forgotten to secure the shawl around him properly, and it was slipping down his waist. The minute it fell to the ground, Sebastian's foot shot out like a rocket, nailing the rebel priest right in the family jewels. Rasputin's voice went up a few octaves as he dropped Sebastian, who tore away with the shawl in tow. Rasputin recovered quickly enough to give chase and snatched up part of the stalagmite that had broken off from earlier. Sebastian quickly and subconsciously fashioned the shawl over his person to keep from tripping over it, and he dodged as the crudely fashioned spear came crashing inches from him into a nearby wall. He then grabbed the head of the stalagmite while Rasputin, still clutching it from the other end, yanked it out of the wall. The battle then turned into a tug-of-war of sorts: Sebastian struggling to get the weapon away from Rasputin, and Rasputin -despite the fact that his enemy was now invincible- valiantly tried to impale him. Suddenly, the scales shifted, and Sebastian eyes widened as he realized that during the scuffle, the stalagmite had lodged itself deep into Rasputin's torso. Rasputin groaned and then gurgled as Sebastian released his grip, allowing the mortally wounded man to stagger off…

"Damn you," he croaked. "Damn you to hell…"

"Raz…"

"A curse…" he moaned, collapsed alongside of the wall. "A curse upon your head, Sebastian Vovk. Just as you had slain me, so will your son. And just as your son will kill you, so will his. Every patriarch in your bloodline from now until the end of time will fall by the hand of his very own son."

Sebastian frowned as Rasputin gurgled once more. He was then overcome by an unfamiliar yet surprisingly welcomed sense of wrath and sulked over to Rasputin.

"It's a shame really though, Rasputin," taunted Sebastian as he loomed over him. "I _was_ rather fond of you and like you, I _was_ relieved to see you weren't killed when the monastery was destroyed, though now I have reason to believe that the destruction of the other churches were at your hand. Even when you wanted to kill me, I only wanted to help save you from yourself. But no more…"

Rasputin's eyes practically bulged out his head as Sebastian shoved the stalagmite deeper into his body. Blood sprayed out from Rasputin's mouth as he cried out. Sebastian continued to thrust and twist the makeshift spear into the fallen cleric until he no longer utter a sound or moved.

"Master!"

"What on God's earth have you done?"

"Get him!"

Sebastian casually glanced over his shoulder to find Rasputin's men steadily closing in on him_. _"Stop," he ordered coolly, and almost immediately, the men stopped in place.

"Yes, my liege," the men answered in monotone unison. Sebastian smiled as he played with the fringe of the shawl.

'_Interesting', _he laughed to himself. '_It seems that when I killed Rasputin, his hold over these men was transferred over to me. Such power I think… I think that I could get used to this…'_

"Very good, my loyal followers," Sebastian then voiced out loud. "Very good. If you stay truthful and loyal to me, many good things are sure to come your way."

"And what name are we to address you by, Master?" asked one of the men.

Sebastian smiled almost catlike, and rubbed the tips of his fingers (which were now coated with Rasputin's blood) together.

"…Brother Blood," he stated plainly. "Simply Brother Blood."


	2. Chapter 2: The Church Of Blood

CHAPTER 2  
The Church Of Blood

Brother Blood was proven to be right on that fateful day. The shawl that Rasputin constantly wore was indeed not heaven sent. Sometime shortly after Rasputin's murder, Blood uncovered some ancient manuscripts which confirmed that the shawl was not blessed by Christ, but by a son of Satan before his banishment. Blood also learned that although he now had a great deal of power due to the ancient garb, he stood to gain a lot more if and only if he was successful in freeing the creator of the shawl from his imprisonment. Wanting to be able to wield such power, Blood began to delve into the world of magic and dark arts to uncover the key, and with his newfound powers of persuasion and mind control, he began to enlist others to help him in his endeavor. His small band of eight grew like wildfire over the course of years and within the very mountainside where Blood was in essence born, a vast secret community was created deep within its stone walls…

Rebellious Rasputin however was also proven to be right on that fateful day. Not long after Blood's cult began to grow, Delphina, one of the cult's female members caught Blood's eye. Blood fell and fell hard for her– quite understandable since the previously devout man had been celibate all his life – and before anyone knew it, she was with child. A son, Corbin, was born to the couple, and Blood hoped that he would be able to eventually pass his legacy down to his son. However Blood's dream was cut short when Corbin murdered him in a fit of rage nineteen years later. Corbin Blood then became the new Brother Blood and the deadly cycle of son-murdering-father would go on and on for the next seven hundred years…

* * *

The year was 1978, and across the Atlantic Ocean and far from the frigid Zandia was Gotham City. Gotham City, New Jersey was an eastern port city that served as both a major economic and cultural center to the U.S.A. Gotham unfortunately was also very well known for its rampant crime and corruption. Those of the local law enforcement of the city did their best to keep evil at bay, but there were still many that suffered from the plights of Gotham City and there were even more who knew how to work and exploit the system. Such was the case of the people at a seemingly innocent cathedral near the outskirts of the city. The cathedral itself was large –almost six stories tall, and it was built of red brick and clay with huge multi-story stained glass windows and surrounded by a tall black wrought iron fence. On the sign that hung near the fence were the words "Faith through Scath Christian Tabernacle" painted in red. Inside of the 'Christian holy place', a man who appeared to be in his fifties with blue eyes and graying hair stood in front of a roaring fireplace in a dark, musty, and seemingly windowless room. Standing off not too far from him was another man who bore a great resemblance to him and who appeared to be in his mid to late twenties...

"…Do you understand the seriousness of the matter?" asked the older man.

The younger man sneered as he turned to look away. He clearly was not interested in what the older man had to say.

"Sebastian!"

"What?" replied the younger man coolly.

"Do you understand the seriousness of this matter? You are my heir apparent. I've only given you the best in life. I even got you into Oxford, a secular school, to further your studies and better your advancement. However, by your deliberant absence at our most recent Homecoming Ceremony, it is becoming very apparent that you no longer have any interest in the Church of Blood. How are we to fulfill our destiny if you continue to behave this way?"

"Honestly, father, it's your destiny, not mine, and I do not know why you even bother with all of this."

The older man's eye twitched.

"…What?"

"Our family has been trying to bring back this banished demon since practically the beginning of time, but no one has been successful, and I for one, am tired of living cooped in this dingy little castle while trying to do so. I am aware of all that you've given me, and for that I am grateful. However from my time in college and from travelling abroad those six years, it also opened my eyes to something even better. We have such immense power already, Father, and we could be out in the world using our powers to take over things and to live as we please."

"And that's where you are wrong, Sebastian," sighed his father. "The only way to truly have power and success in this world and in this life is for us to bring Trigon – the one whom you have the gall to just dismiss as simply 'a banished demon'- back to his rightful home."

"And that is where you and I disagree. The only reason why I've put up with these stupid ceremonies and rituals for all my life is to not be cut off financially. But I can't any more. I'm a type of person who's meant to live in the spotlight high upon a pedestal with the world at my feet, not sulking about in the shadows and taking orders from someone else."

Sebastian then turned his back to his father. "It's not fair for me to stay somewhere where I'm not happy, Father…and it's not fair to May."

Sebastian's father chuckled. "So now I finally see the true cause behind your change of heart," he scoffed.

"I speak and act for myself, Father," snapped Sebastian, walking over to him. "And I find it very hypocritical that you, of all people, would say that I am being governed by others given your _own _obsession with Trigon, which was planted into your head by our ancestors. May is the light of my life, and as long as we stay affixed to this place, I will never be able to enjoy life fully, nor will I ever be able to give May everything she could ever want or need."

"You are a fool and a disgrace to your family namesake. May Bennett is a conniving witch: always has been and always will be. She's only using you to elevate her own interests, and just because the little whore turned a few tricks f …"

Senior Blood never got the chance to finish the sentence as he suddenly fell into a trance. Sebastian's eyes were now glowing a radiant red and he smirked devilishly.

"You obsess so much about keeping with tradition and fulfilling ancient prophecies," he stated. "And while we had our disagreements, you are still my father, and I only want to make you happy. So please, allow me to help keep up with tradition…"

Sebastian's face and mood quickly turned dark. "Go jump off of a building…" he uttered as he exited the room.

A half hour later, Sebastian was sitting in the mess hall with several other members of his congregation while drinking what appeared to be hot tea of some sort. Suddenly, the air was filled with the hysteric scream of an older woman from outside. Two young men – identical twin brothers to be exact– were up in a flash and headed out to investigate, while an older man with a hunched back, gray-white hair and small beady little eyes followed after them in a slower pace. Another younger man in his late teens was almost ready to race out of the room too, but a heavy hand on his shoulder made him stop and he turned back to see Sebastian shaking his head.

"Why are you keeping me from going, Brother Sebastian?" he asked. "Something is wrong. That was your mother screaming!"

"Calm yourself, Rhys," replied Sebastian casually, sipping at his tea. "I think that between Logan and Landon and Xavier, one of them can see to her. Besides, Mother's just a little bit upset right now… understandably so."

"Why is that?"

Sebastian casually glanced up from his cup as he took another sip. "…Because my father is dead."

Rhys' s gray eyes widened and the remaining people in the room: two young woman – one with dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes and the other with long black hair and black eyes – and an older woman with hazel eyes gasped. Rhys then nodded and cleared his throat.

"I, I understand…Brother Blood."

Sebastian nodded. "Good. Now, if you don't mind, I wish to retire for the night. I will speak with you all in the morning about the future of the church."

Everyone nodded in submission and remained seated as Sebastian slowly rose from his seat and exited the room. He made his way throughout the numerous corridors of the monastery until he finally arrived in front of his room. After unlocking the door and entering, Sebastian stepped into what was more like a small apartment. Numerous candelabras lined and lit the windowless foyer, and Sebastian passed his parlor and private bath to enter into his bedroom. He was just starting to disrobe when he heard the distinct sound of his chamber door unlocking, opening and closing again, and Sebastian smiled to himself. He continued to undress as a soft set of footsteps followed him into the room.

"I know that this was going to happen eventually," said a female voice. Sebastian then turned to find the younger woman with raven hair and eyes standing in front of him.

"…But why did you do it, Ian? Why did you kill your father?"

Sebastian's face softened as he could clearly see and hear the concern in her. "Because I was tired of trying to fulfill my father's dreams and not mine," he answered, slowly approaching her. "Because I was tired of existing and not living."

He then stopped short of her and cradled her face in his hands. "Because _he_ had the audacity to insult _you_."

May smiled slightly as Sebastian kissed her forehead. "Because he didn't understand you," he whispered, kissing her again. "Because he didn't love you."

May smirked as Sebastian now began to cuddle her. "So what is to become of us now?" she asked softly. "I know your heart is no longer into bringing Trigon back to Earth. Where do we go from here?"

"I had been thinking about that," replied Sebastian, who was now slowly undoing the buttons to his lover's scarlet gown. "Our brethren know that they are supposed to remain loyal to the head of the church no matter what, but the more senior members here - especially Xavier- I know will not take kindly to me abandoning our quest to bring back Trigon in favor of my quest for world domination."

"So brainwash them. Out of all of the descendants of the Blood family line, you were the only one to actually inherit your powers naturally and without the need of the Shawl of Scath. Surely to brainwash the minds of a few subordinates is nothing for someone with talents like yours."

"True," laughed Sebastian. "Very true, but our fellow brothers and sisters are – at least for the time being very useful for our purposes, May. While they tend to all the financial and messy matters here, we are free to go wherever we like and do as we please. We can travel just like we did back in college, exploring the finest this world has to offer. Then once we've established our new lives in the place of our choice, we'll dispose of these simpletons and then the world will be at our feet."

Sebastian undid the last button and loosened his hands, allowing the crimson garb to slide off of May's form and onto the floor.

"Now, enough small talk, my love," he purred. "Care to join me in the bath?"

May in response to this, flashed him her trademark crooked smile.


	3. Chapter 3: Fresh Blood

**I apologize for being absent for so long, dear readers. I had a number of other things to contend with, and having no inspiration to write or any internet for the past six months didn't help my works-in-progress (You can thank "Sandy" for that) either. However, I'm going to make it a point to upload new chapters – and in time new stories more regularly now. With that said, read and enjoy this latest installment to The Reign of Blood: The Rise and Fall of Brother Blood…**

* * *

CHAPTER 3

Fresh Blood

It was nearly wintertime in Gotham City, and the air was crisp and a light snow fell from the sky. Inside of the walls of the Scath building however, the biting cold of the season didn't seem to faze its occupants, for many of them still wore their simple scarlet red tunics and gowns. One member in particular was actually dressed as if she was ready for bed. May Bennett's rich raven-black hair, which was often styled to lie long and loose was caught up in a coif, and she donned a white chiffon and lace gown and robe. She also had a look upon her oval face that conveyed both tranquility and contentment, and her dark brown, almost black eyes flittered across the pages of the book in her hands. Just then, the door burst open, and a young woman with dirty blonde hair hurried in May's chamber.

"What's wrong, Helena?" asked May, who hadn't even bothered to look up. Helena nervously played with her hands and glanced up shyly.

"I don't mean to alarm you, but I thought you should know. There is a new girl staying here."

May's eyes shot up from her book, the warmth and serenity quickly melting from her face.

"What?"

"We've taken in another vagabond. I was in the mess hall cleaning up when Sister Moriah stopped in and asked Sisters Winter and Ophelia if it was too late to fix up something quick. Said she found a young girl praying in the chapel downstairs. She also said there was something about this girl that drew her in, something that could possibly make her…the one."

May frowned. "That's exactly what she said a month ago when that _other_ one showed up here."

Helena nodded demurely. Her roommate's black mood quickly shifted to one of uneasiness.

"…Does Ian know about this?"

Helena understood May's concern. It had been almost ten years since Sebastian had succeeded his father as head of the Church of Blood, and in a decade's time, much had changed. For one thing, Sebastian had delegated more and more responsibilities onto the male congregation members. This went over very well since many wanted the chance to prove their worth for their Lord, and others like Xavier, sought more power and influence over others. As for Sebastian and May, this was solely done so that the couple would have more time to spend together. However during the last two or three years, May had to contend with the fact that with all of his extra time, Sebastian had been eyeing and on some occasions pursuing another woman, and now with not just one but two new quarries under his care…

"Not yet. I believe he has already retired for the night."

May pursed her lips. She was still a bit bothered by the idea that a possible new rival now slept under the same roof as her and Helena touched her shoulder lightly.

"I know it's easier said than done, but it'll do you no good to lose sleep over this, May. Tomorrow at breakfast, we can observe this new girl to access if she'll be a problem or not."

May looked up into Helena's hazel eyes and nodded. Despite being the more ambitious and outgoing of the two, May always respected Helena for her ability to encourage and support her, no matter how capricious her moods got, or how rational or perverse her actions were. Besides, she was also right. As her eyes fell upon the wall clock, it was getting close to nine o'clock, and May was feeling rather tired. Better to address the issue when she was bright and lucid rather than tired and irritable…

"Is that her?"

Helena turned in the direction that May had gestured with her head. Two young girls had just entered the mess hall and the youngest of the pair, a petite girl with long curly black hair that was caught up into a pony tail and icy blue eyes looked around nervously. She then turned to the serving counter where Garnet, Sebastian's mother had gotten her attention...

"Yes," answered Helena in a hushed tone of voice. "Her name is Angela."

"But she's young! She can't be no more than eighteen."

"Actually, I think she's younger. Moriah mentioned something about her dropping out of high school."

"Hmm, she doesn't strike me as the rebellious, unruly type."

"I don't get that impression from her either. That should surely work in your favor, yes?"

May nodded and continued to watch as Angela moved further down the queue line and grabbed at random a couple of other food staples, her eyes locked in the direction that her companion had walked off to. She then scooped up her serving tray and briskly headed over to a table at the far end of the room. It was the least populated one, and only two other young girls sat there: one with olive skin, green eyes and short, messy brown hair, the other with long straggly black hair, a fair complexion and blue-green eyes. As the trio talked and ate amongst themselves, May's eyes panned over to the table where Sebastian and several other male members sat. The group seemed to be engrossed by their own private conversation, but then, every now and then, May noticed that Sebastian's blue eyes occasionally skimmed over to the trio of girls, and danced between on the girl with brown hair and the brunette with blue-green eyes...

"Hmph!" snorted May, her face reddening with anger. Helena glanced up from her oatmeal to see what had displeased May.

"He's getting bold," she murmured, sipping her coffee.

"He's getting stupid," grumbled May, a bit loudly, and Helena's eyes widened in response.

"Hush, now. Before you do or say something rash in front of everyone."

"It's insufferable, Lena," whispered May harshly. "It's bad enough that my Ian is straying from me. Must he now do it right in front of me as if I'm invisible? As if I am nothing!?"

Helena sighed. May was with all justification getting riled up by Sebastian's not so subtle attention to the younger women. However, she also knew that she needed to say or do something to dispel the rising tension in the room. Even, Angela, the literal new kid on the block could sense that something was wrong and she glanced over in their direction. Therefore, Helena grasped for straws and went what she hoped would suit her purpose...

"It's distasteful on his part yes," she stately calmly. "And greatly foolish in other ways too. Out of all of the eligible ladies who attended Oxford and who he could've dated, it was _you_ he wanted, and it was you who enchanted him and captivated his for all of these years."

She then smirked. "Perhaps he _is _getting stupid, since he decides to choose pigeons…over a swan."

May sniggered and placed a hand over her mouth to suppress her laughter. Helena winked and returned her attention back to her breakfast. Clearly, the shameless flattery worked, and May was in a less hostile mood for the remainder of the meal. However, Helena was left to wonder about the trio of girls, or at least the two of them who often worked their way under May's skin. Something more permanent had to be done about this fresh, young blood in the congregation. Otherwise, Helena feared that there might be _spilt_ blood in the days soon to come…


End file.
